Information burst forth like water from a breached dam as the life of a dying Chaos worshipper flashed before me.

Born in the lower classes and being an immigrant, Mokitarr’s childhood was an unremarkable blur of drudgery. He spent his early youth constantly brawling in the rough neighbourhood and soon discovered he had a knack for fighting. The little supervised boy had no qualms using underhanded techniques to achieve victory.

Suddenly the vision began losing its focus, to compensate I increased my psychic power output. Refocused again, I saw a young Mokitarr joining the army after coming of age. With a talent and taste for fighting, he yearned for more in life and had high hopes.

Unfortunately for the future heretic, despite being a cut above the rest, entrenched hierarchies stifled his ascent. For years Mokitarr watched from the sidelines as privileged sons and daughters of aristocrats hogged most if not all the opportunities and promotions.

It wasn’t fair, not even close.

The experience left Mokitarr with resentment at the deep rooted establishment. For many years he festered his hatred in silence, the after taste of his emotions were red hot and bitter, like a lump of burning charcoal.

The vision suddenly lost its focus again as the heretic captain’s vitality took a nosedive. Alarmed, I steadily increased my power output, straining at what was left of the man’s synapses. But it didn’t go well, my connection to his collapsing mind had become jarring, the sensation was akin to trying to build a card house inside a decrepit manor during an earthquake.

While I could suppress the shaking of the foundation by pumping in more power, the whole place threatened to fall apart at any moment, and there was little time left.

Wait, what am I doing? I was supposed to search for critical information but instead got swept away by the man’s dying thoughts. Gritting my teeth, I increased my output further and started asking questions.

+How did you people get in here and why attack this place?+

Mokitarr struggled a bit before answers started to surface from his mind: They entered via tunnels to capture as many psykers as possible, an objective they had completed.

+What were you doing when we arrived?+

The heretic captain’s thought revealed a chilling plan of overloading the primary plasma generator to obliterate the whole place, leaving little to no evidence.

+Where are you taking the psykers and what are your plans with them?+

A feeling of confusion rose from Mokitarr’s delirious mind, I took it as he genuinely didn’t know.

+Show me your leader.+

The mere mention of this figure seemed to jolt his dying mind, and he resisted again. In response I simply overpowered his resistance with more psychically brute force. At first it felt like his mind was breaking for good, but surprisingly a vision eventually appeared.

Continuing his story, later in his life Mokitarr stumbled onto some forbidden knowledge. As he was secretly researching further into the subject, one night he was approached by an enigmatic figure.

With bated breath I prepared myself to witness this mysterious leader and was unnerved as an imposing person came into focus. It was a man looking of late middle age yet he had an energy level that surpassed any youth. Tall and muscular, he was brimming with unnatural power and had an aura as haunting as a moonless night.

The mysterious man’s hairstyle was a chaotic symphony of curls and waves that seemed to defy all attempts at containment. On his face was a beard as wild as the untamed wilderness, cascading in unruly tangles like the branches of ancient trees. The man’s eyes were pools of shadowed mystery that seemed to hold the secrets of ages past, gleaming with an unsettling intensity. Cloaked in mystic robes that billowed like an impending storm on the horizon, his whole appearance screamed “I am an evil cult leader”.

In the vision the figure started to speak. His voice, a deep resonance from the very depths of the earth, carried with it a hypnotic allure that dripped with honeyed venom. From the vision I could tell spells of persuasion were woven into his words, but they weren’t all deceptions.

The figure spoke of many things, he spoke of the imperial elites hoarding all the wealth and powers, about the hypocrisy and corruption of the Church. The man’s statements would warrant him an instant death sentence by any Imperium standard, and yet he spoke of these like that it was the most natural thing.

After finishing his speech about the ills of the human empire, the man then revealed the coming of a new era where the light of Astronomicon would cease to shine, and the sector would be plunged into chaos. From this chaos a new world would be built, a world liberated from the shackles of the Imperium.

In this new world the man promised freedom and fairness where capable people like Mokitarr would be needed, there would even be opportunities for power and glory that were unattainable for the less privileged within the current stifling, established order.

This guy sure knows how to package himself as a charismatic visionary, his sales pitch was excellent.

As for Mokitarr, from the resonance in his memory I could tell his long held disdain in life tipped the scales, and he easily embraced the heretical path by casting away his oaths to the Throne to march towards a new world, a promised world free from the tyranny of the Throne.

With that everything began to fade and Mokitarr was well and truly on his last legs. I held onto his collapsing synapses and threw in a last question. +What is your leader’s name?+

There was no reply, only another muted confusion.

+What do you call him?+

Another scene appeared, breaking and jittery. I could just barely make up Mokitarr swearing his new allegiance as he knelt before the man. ‘Master.’

The vision ended, I found myself back in the grim interior of the scholastica, my hand still touching the heretic’s forehead with Thaberus standing beside me. Mokitarr no longer exhibited any signs of life, though eerily his eyes were still open as if longing to see that promised world that never arrived for him.

‘How was it?’ Thaberus asked softly.

I took a long look at the deceased heretic captain. Just a few minutes ago he seemed capable of taking on the whole world, and yet everything was gone from him in the blink of an eye.

Standing up, I let out a long breath before answering. ‘It was horrendous. The heretics entered via tunnels and were capturing psykers for some unknown plan. They also planned to overload the plasma generator to destroy any evidence. Most importantly, I saw their leader. He might be that arch heretic you mentioned.’

Thaberus’ eyes seemed to glint at my answer as he replied, ‘a while ago I was about to inform you that we received rumours that the cults’ supreme leader has recently been active again. This should provide us with some clues to hunt down this bastard.’

While that was the first time I saw the inquisitor being excited at something, my immediate concern was how the sisters were doing as the cracking of weapons could still be heard.

‘How is the fight going?’ I asked.

‘We have them, there is no way out. Let’s finish it quickly.’ Thaberus said and started moving towards the front, leaving me hurrying after him.

While walking towards the gun fight, I witnessed the whole situation. The sisters were laying down disciplined fire at the cultists’ critically exposed back line, every hit resulting in a gruesome death. Bolters and storm bolters barked relentlessly, with the heavy bolter carried by Sister Lysandra being the loudest of all.

Caught between the dug-in security force in the front and with battle sisters on their back, the cultists were being decimated. Shocked, leaderless and being sandwiched by our pincer attack, their raw emotions of fear and desperation were palpable even from my position, just like their victims not so long ago.

Suddenly my mind registered a new vox broadcasting from the enemies, a new voice was speaking with great urgency. ‘Brothers! Let’s take down as many corpse worshippers as we can! Prepare yourself!’

Seemed like someone had taken up the leadership role. As I was thinking that, smoke suddenly blossomed in the corridor, quickly obscuring the whole place. Then that same voice ordered with a tune of finality, ‘with me! For the promised world!’

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Under the cover of smoke, an unknown number of combatants stormed out of their hiding places and charged down the corridor, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Startled by the cultists’ desperate attempt, I immediately activated thought acceleration before using [Auspex] to sweep the area, revealing the enemies’ locations. That done, I updated the tactical field overlay in a heartbeat, nullifying the smoke cover. The battle sisters however held their fire despite being updated with the tactical information, and instead simply let the heretics close in.

Just as I was wondering what the sisters were doing, in slow motion two of the Celestian sisters stood up from their cover, a combi-flamer in each of their hands with pilot lights burning. It was then I realised the heretics had made a grave mistake - they were charging one of the most renowned flame users of the Imperium.

Time flow resumed just in time for me to witness searing blazes pour forth from the flamers, engulfing the corridor together with the charging cultists. The whole area was immediately filled with the burning scent of promethium.

Incredibly, a few cultists emerged from the inferno covered in fire, flailing and screaming as they continued to stumble forward. Looking unimpressed, the sisters swiftly blew them off with near point blank shots, upping the brutality of this hellish engagement.

Amidst screaming death cries, Thaberus and I joined up with the sisters. This fight was finally wrapping up with the cracking of weapons simmering down. I was relieved to see that none of the sisters sustained any major injuries before turning my attention to the aftermath, and what I saw made me wince.

In front of us, more than a dozen burnt cultists lay dead or dying on the floor. Amongst a corridor of exploded and charred bodies were a handful of individuals who I could not decide to either be very lucky or otherwise. These people were still alive and moaning painfully, half-cooked with hair and cloth burned off, their skin still sizzling with a sick fatty scent.

Further away, the clearing smoke revealed the decimated cultists’ main rank, many of them missing huge portions of their bodies that ended in nauseating gory messes, a very common occurrence from a direct bolter hit.

Bolter rounds and humans never mix well.

As I stood at the edge of the charnel house feeling apprehensive at the carnage, a vox message came through.

‘Thank the Throne. Thorn, is that you with the battle sisters out there?’ It was from Kael to Thaberus.

‘Affirmative. Hold your fire,’ Thaberus said.

‘We are coming out, don’t shoot.’

‘Alright, do it slowly,’ The inquisitor replied before switching his channel to contact all the sisters. ‘Friendlies approaching, hold fire but stay alert.’

Shortly after amongst the fading smoke I saw movement. Forewarned by Thaberus, the sisters held their weapons in check as the scholastica survivors left their defensive position. The crowd was moving cautiously, making sure the cultists along the way were neutralised as they crept towards us.

As the small crowd came into full view, Thaberus walked out to meet them. I was wondering if I should join the inquisitor when Alicya and her Celestians abruptly blocked my path, acting like a barrier between me and the newcomers. For a moment I was about to protest before deciding to allow them their vigilance.

The crowd was a mismatched bunch of people from administrators to security personnel. A late middle aged man who resembled Sir Sean Connery in his sixties was leading in the front, dressed in a dull imperial storm coat with some armour pieces. Like Thaberus, he was armed with a bolt pistol.

My hunch told me this person must be Kael, I could not help but imagine him to be quite handsome during his prime. Behind the bootleg Sean Connery came a plethora of colourful characters. There was a middle aged lady with a noble-looking attire right behind Kael, followed by a few individuals looking like personal aides, then two hooded tech-priests and finally an assortment of armed personnels.

Finally both sides met over a hall full of dead cultists, and for a moment no one spoke, only stares were exchanged. Just as it was starting to get awkward, Kael shattered the silence with a string of hearty laughter.

After having everyone’s attention, the man holstered his weapon, turned to his colleagues and spoke in a booming voice, ‘by the Throne! I bet none of you ever foreseen the day when you would be glad to see an Ordo Hereticus inquisitor visiting unannounced, huh?’

For a second I was surprised by Kael’s bold antics before recalling that he and Thaberus were acquaintances. I peeked at the inquisitor to find that he just seemed slightly amused.

While Kael’s greeting was unorthodox to say the least, his actions relaxed the tense atmosphere considerably. Just as I was assuming Kael was a goofy character by nature he suddenly turned all serious, properly formed the Aquila hand salute and said out loud, ‘all hail our saviour, Thaberus Thorn of the Holy Inquisition!’

Soon most of the people behind him followed his example and formed their Aquila signs. Thaberus nodded and returned the gesture.

‘By His will, we miraculously made it in time,’ the inquisitor said, ‘you lot have this other person to thank though, she contributed the most for your salvation. Before that, is my junior trainee Zaki here with you?’

‘The null boy?’ Kael turned to the lady behind him.

In response she looked to another one of her aides and ordered with a cultured voice, ‘kindly request Agent Z to come forward.’

Soon a familiar little boy appeared from the crowd, walking stiffly at first, unsure of himself. When the boy saw the grim inquisitor, his demeanour changed completely and he started running, calling out with joy. ‘Master Thaberus!’

The little guy stopped right in front of the looming inquisitor before properly bowing.

‘Good to see you, Zaki. I got your acquaintance here who insisted on coming along to see to your well being,’ Thaberus said while looking back. After locating me he gestured for me to come forward. I lightly pushed the somewhat reluctant sisters aside to join him in the front, and immediately my appearance created some confusion.

A young maid?

What is this girl doing here?

I sensed lots of questions from the people we just rescued, my attire was totally out of place within a force of battle sisters with power armour and a battle ready inquisitor after all.

A thing to note was that while pictures of me active during the last great civil war battle were quite widespread, the imperial machinery did a great job on censoring those which featured my face clearly from the public. On that note I was informed by many Ecclesiarchy dignitaries that meeting me in person was a totally different experience from looking at the pictures, and many of them expected me to be taller. So at this point me being unrecognisable by other people despite being the hottest topic in town was understandable.

However none of those questions were valid to Zaki, in the boy’s eyes he saw his only friend visiting. Visibly excited, the boy looked to Thaberus, and after receiving a nod he ran to me.

‘Syrine!’

Alicya and her Celestians flinched at the kid for directly addressing me without honorifics, but I couldn't care less. I had already gone before them to receive the little person.

‘Zaki,’ I greeted the boy before picking him up, secretly enjoying a fleeting moment of false normalcy like the first time we met. After what I went through to get here, this tiny reward was well deserved.

While the rest of the crowd looked on in confusion, Kael seemed to have figured out my identity, as his facial expression switched from neutral to one of utter surprise.

Just then Thaberus spoke again. ‘She is your true saviour for today. Without her contribution, things might have gone down very differently. I present to you the living saint candidate, Lady Syrine.’

After the inquisitor dropped his words immediately the whole place tensed up again. Kael was the first to bow deeply and many others quickly followed his example. Soon, almost the whole crowd was bowing before me.

Looking at the sudden development, Zaki had this dumb-founded look on his childish face. While scenes like this never failed to be equally mortifying and cringe-inducing for me, after playing the part of a saint candidate for two days straight at the monastery I was getting better at handling them.

I even developed a detached view of looking at it: These people weren’t bowing to me, they were paying respect to the powers I inherited and my place as a proxy of their God’s divinity. Nothing personal here, just nod and accept their show of homage.

Special thanks to [Regalis] for always sponsoring my perfect poker face, the real MVP life saver.

From the sisters I could sense both pride and slight annoyance; Pride for my “divinity” being acknowledged, annoyance at the two unmoving Mechanicus tech-priests who failed to show proper respect. As I understood, members of the Mars priesthood had a very different view on the Emperor’s divinity and they weren’t bound by common imperial laws and religious edicts.

‘Please be at ease and rise,’ I said to the crowd and could not help but notice the staggering contrast between the sense of serenity carried by my soothing feminine voice and our immediate surroundings of a hall of messy dead bodies.

As the crowd was straightening back up, from their back came a sudden clamour followed by a sharp burst of psychic resonance. Alarmed, I looked in that direction and saw an incredible sight.

A small orange figure bursting with psychic energy was moving with incredible speed. Right on its tail were four individuals clad in that same sinister-looking black armour I saw earlier.

The four black armoured figures were all armed with a spear-like weapon and even from a distance I could tell that they were not fooling around. Their every stab and jab was fully meant to kill but the little orange figure was too fast for them, always being a step or two ahead.

While Thaberus clicked his tongue at the unexpected event, from the surprised expressions of Kael and his companions I deduced this could be something serious.

‘Go to Thaberus,’ I said to Zaki, gently letting him down with a pat on his back. The boy gave me a quick nod before running to his boss. If this was a trap for either of us, the inquisitor could use a null to increase his odds of survival. Alicya and her Celestians were already forming around me, tensed with weapons raised.

It was then the small figure in the distance finally ditched its pursuers and suddenly headed straight… for me!

Just my luck, a daemonhost assassin?

No time to second guess. With self preservation instincts taking over, my thought acceleration instantly went to overdrive as I entered my psychically active state. Going into a defensive posture, I blasted out my halo at full strength in the faint hope of intimidating it. If we survived this, Thaberus would surely give me an ear full of “I told you so” on exposing myself to risks.

As the divine radiance filled the space between me and the oncoming blur, for the first time I got a good look at the small figure. It was not the expected horrible visage of a daemon-possessed individual, but that of a terrified normal-looking human boy.

The boy wore an orange jumpsuit that was not dissimilar to those of prison standard issue, and he was screaming via telepathy.

+HELP~~!+

His otherworldly plea was heard by none of the sisters surrounding me, and I could tell from their micro movements they were about to discharge their bolters.